


Spoken Truths

by am_bellanoire



Series: Love Transcends (Life with Lyra) [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 08:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18027863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/am_bellanoire
Summary: “Hermione? What are you doing here?” Andromeda Tonks' tone was colored with shock and confusion, yet still she stepped aside to allow her sister in-law passage into her home. She could not take her eyes off of the bundle of blankets the brunette held protectively to her chest. Nor the threadbare carpetbag suitcase she carried in her free hand.“I'm so sorry Andy but I didn't know where else to go.”





	Spoken Truths

**Author's Note:**

> Evidently I am helplessly obsessed with this series featuring Lyra. Happy Reading!

“Hermione? What are you doing here?” Andromeda Tonks' tone was colored with shock and confusion, yet still she stepped aside to allow her sister in-law passage into her home. She could not take her eyes off of the bundle of blankets the brunette held protectively to her chest. Nor the threadbare carpetbag suitcase she carried in her free hand. 

“I'm so sorry Andy but I didn't know where else to go.” 

What could she say to that? Of course she could remind Hermione that she was one of the most well known witches in their world, quite wealthy, married to someone who was equally as wealthy, and could very well afford to stay anywhere she pleased. But there was something about the way the brunette held her daughter so tightly, something about the way her honey brown eyes were fixed with such sadness and determination that effectively stayed the words on her tongue. 

“I'll put on some tea,” Andromeda said instead and went, with her wand in hand, to do just that as Hermione settled in the sitting room, making the most endearing cooing sounds directed to the squirming baby concealed within the blankets. 

Her niece. 

Lyra Delphini Jean Black. 

She hadn't yet laid proper eyes on the child. She had read The Prophet of course, she had received the announcement, had been invited to the child's welcoming ceremony. At the time, she'd had half a mind to bring Teddy to meet his new cousin. But she couldn't bring herself to do that. She supposed it was petty, some might say cold-hearted. Then again, she was a Black by birth. 

She had not been able to rejoice in her sister's celebration when she had lost _everything_. Her husband. Her daughter. All she had left was a grandson who would grow up never knowing how much his parents loved him. Never knowing how cruel life could be to those with golden hearts meanwhile forgiving to those who had done wicked things. Bellatrix was the last person she would expect to somehow gain all that any normal person would want – a pardon and freedom, a beautiful wife, and a precious baby – despite all the evil she had done. It was still taking Andromeda some time to come to terms with the fact. 

But now her sister's wife was in her home, with her niece, looking for all intents and purposes as if her heart had been broken. And the middle Black sister could not help but feel that this was a test of some sort. 

With a swish of her hand and a flick of her wrist Andromeda levitated the tea tray, carrying it into the adjoining room, her face an expressionless mask. It was ironic what skills one managed to hold on to even after they had decided to turn their back on their family. As it was, she knew why Hermione's eyes widened and the choked sob left her lips as she entered the room. She and Bella had always been considered twin-like in looks despite the fact that they were two years apart. 

“Tell me what's happened.” 

With tears rapidly flooding her eyes, Hermione carefully unwrapped the child, cradling Lyra in the way that only a mother would know how. And Andromeda, finally seeing her for the first time, could not help but think the baby beautiful. A head full of chestnut hair, thick and clearly going in the route of curls, chubby and cherubic, making the most adorable babbling sounds that instantly pitched her back to a time when Nymphadora had been an infant. Merlin, how she _missed_ her. 

“She won't touch her, Andy.”

Blinking slowly, the middle Black sister shook her head in an attempt to focus on the present rather than the painful past. “I'm sorry?”

Hermione's eyes never left her daughter's though her voice heavily trembled as she spoke, “She doesn't hold her, she doesn't pick her up. She won't even _look_ at her. I - I don't know what to do.” 

Andromeda sighed, holding her teacup between her hands but not yet taking a sip. For a moment she was at a loss for words. Against her own volition she was sent back to the past but this time instead of the face of her dead daughter and the loving smile of her late husband, she took a tumble into a scene that was straight out of Black Manor. A scene where she and her two sisters – one raven haired and the other fair – sat on a four poster bed, giggling and gossiping about the future, what they wanted out of their lives. Bred to be the perfect Pureblooded daughters, descended from the most sacred of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, there were so many things they had been taught, so many rules to obey, but above it all only one path to follow. Bellatrix, being the eldest and as such would be the first to marry, had never desired the shackles of matrimony and motherhood. Cissy, being the youngest and the most imaginative by default, had always fancied herself a Cinderella of sorts, eventually finding her perfectly pure Prince Charming. And Andromeda, being ten and caught in the middle, had only prayed for someone to love her for who she was and not for the Galleons her name guaranteed. And she had found that. So too had Narcissa found her prince. While Bella had been the odd man – or witch – out. Up until the very end when she, in only the way that she could, had trumped them both and gotten what she had never thought she wanted. 

Merlin help her. She was still so bitter. 

She set the cup, still full, back down on the table. 

“May I hold her?” Andromeda couldn't believe those were the words that had come from her mouth but she did nothing to stop them. And Hermione, bless her, did not think twice before passing over her precious armload. The middle Black sister took her niece into her arms and simply stared down at her. Oh, her eyes. They were nothing like she had ever seen – and that was surely saying something having raised a Metamorphmagus – one black as pitch and the other golden brown. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her mouth gone dry, as her vision blurred with unshed tears. 

“Do you think it's my fault?” 

Hermione's question managed to tear her gaze away from that of the child and Andromeda tilted her head, knowing without the aid of a looking glass that her brows had furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Because I wanted this? Wanted Lyra. I hardly gave her a choice. I mean, it was practically an ultimatum. I wanted to be a mother,” the brunette witch turned her teacup on it's plate, her tone low and pensive, her eyes seeming a million miles away as she spoke, “She brewed the potion. She cast that spell. She wasn't just there at the birth, holding my hand. She _felt_ it too. And I just thought – I dunno – she _named_ her for Godric's sake. And now, now she won't even -”

Andromeda shook her head with a scoff. “Of course it's not your fault.” True she had not seen her sister in person since the wedding but, judging by the frequent letters sent by owl, she knew this was the farthest thing from the truth. But as she held her niece, brushed her lips against her forehead, heard the soft puff of her breath, Andromeda knew. She knew what the problem was and setting aside what she felt whenever she so much as thought Bellatrix's name, looking down at this innocent child and glancing up at her mother, she knew she had to be honest. “My sister has done unspeakable things, Hermione. Terrible things. And she's still paying for them outside of a cell, outside of death.”

A look of horror passed across Hermione's face following the words that made Andromeda's stomach churn. “You don't, oh _Merlin_ , you don't think it's because she's Halfblood do you?” 

For as brilliant a witch as people claimed the girl was, it was the densest thing Andromeda had ever heard. 

“Hermione, forgive my candor, but you're _Muggleborn_. And she married you.” There was some residual coldness to her words that Andromeda only realized after they had been uttered, something from the past. But sometimes a bit of frost was a good thing – it managed to cut cleanly like a knife whenever tension grew too thick to fade on its own. 

But there was more. Something about holding Lyra loosened her tongue. If she did not dwell on the way her heart ached in very much the same way it did when she held her grandson. She felt as if she owed it to the little girl she slowly rocked in her arms, who happened to smile just like Nymphadora used to smile, to speak her piece. To finally find peace. 

It had been far too long. 

“I've hated Bella for the longest time but I've loved her still. And when I look at you and I look at Lyra, it reminds me that there are greater things than hatred and bitterness and wishing bad on someone. She turned her back on Voldemort after so many years of being under his thumb. She tried to save my daughter in the end and I suppose that should count for something,” Andromeda couldn't stop the tears now. The stinging beneath her eyelids had finally reached a breaking point and salt tinged water began to roll down her cheeks. 

“She never _wanted_ to be a wife. She never wanted to be a mother. But she married you and she helped you bring this little witch into the world because she _loves_ you. How ironic is that? Bellatrix fucking Lestrange being able to _love_ ,” the harsh exhale that burst from Andromeda's throat sounded strangely like a sob, but the tightness in her throat wouldn't stay her tongue, “A-and being able to love you, well, it makes me feel that she finally got what she _really_ wanted in the end. And regardless of how much hate I've felt towards her, I love her enough to say I'm glad she was able to get a piece of happiness in the long run. Two pieces as it were.

“Guilt is a powerful thing. And it takes a whole hell of a lot to come to terms with guilt. Give her a chance, Hermione. Loving you is not new to her, neither is you loving her. You already accept her for who she is, who she was. And you still love her for it. But Lyra, Lyra will eventually have to learn that one of her mothers was once the deadliest witch anyone could ever cross paths with. She'll have to learn of the people that fell at the tip of her wand. She'll have to learn why the both of you are so famous, why some praise you and others curse you. All of that is going to happen one day and neither of you can change that. I spent years away from my sister but even I still know when she's _afraid_.”

The tea had gone untouched on both ends, cooling in the porcelain cups. The child was drifting to sleep in her arms and Andromeda slowly shook her head. How easy would this be, she wondered, to exact revenge. Because Merlin help her, she still _hurt_. Why should Bellatrix of all people have everything she no longer had? Why should Bella deserve to know such love, such innocence, such beauty when Andromeda had the rest of her days to piece back together a life that had been torn apart by everything her elder sister stood for? It wasn't fair. It wasn't _right_. And yet, yet her lips fixed themselves to utter in a hoarse and tear filled rasp, “Go back to your wife, my dear. She loves Lyra and never you doubt it. I remember that name, her telling me if she ever had a daughter it would be the name she'd choose. This is deeper than you think and if you truly love my sister like you claim you do then surely you can't be this afraid to swim.”

Hermione was crying now too but it was hardly a consolation. Her goal had not been to guilt the girl into returning home but to enlighten her on something she herself thought had been forgotten three decades prior. Clearly her heart remembered. 

“Thank you, Andy," the brunette sniffed, "Won't you come by for dinner? I know Bella's been anxious to see you.”

“Think nothing of it.” Despite all that had been transpired, truths that had been spilled surely as if she had imbibed on Veritaserum, Andromeda could not bring herself to accept the invitation. Maybe another time. Maybe. “Best get the little one home now, yes?”

For all of her Gryffindor moxie, Hermione didn't pry. She merely scooped her now sleeping child into her arms, gently rubbing her nose against a pudgy cheek, and took the unspoken words for what they were because honestly the older witch had spoken enough for the day. 

“Alright.”


End file.
